


Blood and Fire

by NecromancersAngelsandHuntersOhMy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark, Dark Crack, Everybody Dies, F/M, Imprisonment, Major character death - Freeform, Not Abandoned, Not a Mary-Sue, Other, Probably no dragon and god sex, Starvation, The Valar, Torture, Touch-Starved, Will continue if there's interest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NecromancersAngelsandHuntersOhMy/pseuds/NecromancersAngelsandHuntersOhMy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing leered at her. “You are the Arkenstone. You are my greatest treasure.”</p><p>The subdued goddess frowned and shook her head a little. “I don’t think that’s right. I don’t remember as of yet, but I am sure that I am not any type of stone.” She glanced up at the thing for the briefest of seconds. “What are you?” She asked meekly.</p><p>The thing smiled gruesomely, pulling himself to his full height, unfurling his wings in a magnificent display of power. “I am fire, I am death, my wings are of the hurricane, I am King under the mountain, I am the last of the fire-drakes. I am Smaug!” The drake pulled his tail from behind Phaedra, the feeble goddess tumbled down the mountain of treasure. The Moon fell and Death followed her down.</p><p>Or...</p><p>The story follows Phaedra, better known as the Arkenstone, how she was imprisoned, went mad, and was accidentally released by Smaug. What follows is something neither of them expected.</p><p>Or...</p><p>How a god got locked away, went crazy, got released accidentally, shacked up with a dragon, and killed a bunch of people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Silver in the Firelight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is basically a novel study project that got way out of hand. Like 3000 words out of hand. I figured I could post it and see if I should continue it or not. So if you like it say something, leave kudos, follow, whatever you like. If you show interest I will post more!  
> FYI this is basically just back story, the story gets moving in the next chapter.

Aulë, creator of dwarves, had a daughter named Phaedra, with Varda the Queen of Stars, wife of Manwë. Phaedra was beautiful, alike to her mother in that way. Varda was like the stars she had created, an untouchable beauty. Phaedra was brilliant as the Moon, cool and serene. Melkor saw her beauty and desired to possess the young goddess as he had tried to do with her mother. When Phaedra denied his proposal of marriage the first dark lord turned her into a glorious gem, made of a thousand facets, a jewel that radiated light from within.

Melkor hid her within the depths of a mountain that would come to be known as Erebor, The Lonely Mountain. Aulë searched for Phaedra in fruitlessly, unfortunately it became easier for the Valar to deny the existence of the goddess rather than search for her. So she remained locked away, fully conscious in total darkness for eons. Eventually the isolation corrupted her and Phaedra fell into madness.

Her mind sought out anything living, trying to break free of her restraints. Unconsciously she drew her father’s creatures to her, and nearly possessed with need the dwarves mined into Erebor. They mined into depths that should have never been unearthed in vain until under the reign of Thror, King under the Mountain, she was found. Phaedra glowed in a radiance that rivaled the moon. She called the dwarves to her in hopes that they’d break her imprisonment but they didn’t realize what they had found was a goddess and merely thought of her as a jewel they called the Arkenstone.

She kept screaming, calling, seeking out someone, anyone to break her prison and release her into her true form. It drew elves, dwarves, and all sorts of strange creatures. Then after hundreds of years of watching and waiting a type of creature she had never seen before flew from the west. A young dragon named Smaug heard her call and traveled from the west to desolate Dale, drive out the Dwarves from Erebor, and hoard the treasure for himself.

Thror attempted to escape Smaug’s wrath with the Arkenstone, but was burned alive clutching the incandescent gem with his charred fingers. A few decades later an idiotic man broke into Smaug’s lair in an attempt to steal the Arkenstone. The man nearly succeeded but he was caught running down the mountainside. The fire-drake devoured him alive dripping just enough of the man’s life-blood on to the Arkenstone. There was flash of blinding white light and in the place of the Arkenstone was the goddess Phaedra.


	2. Like Water in the Sun

Phaedra stood wobbly, uncertain after so long without legs or limbs. She smiled and it shone. The goddess lifted pale hands to her face. She felt her smile, brushing over ashy skin with bony fingers, scraping sharp fingernails over her scalp, relishing in the pain, tugging frail hands through her knotted hair. Phaedra opened her eyes a fraction of an inch, though quickly shut her eyes and covered them with her hands, hoping to block out the searing light. Her knees buckled, unable to hold up her weight any longer.

The sickly goddess fell to the ground and just for a moment she forgot about the pain and savored in the feeling of fresh grass against her naked skin. Phaedra lowered her torso and pressed her face to the soft green grass. She inhaled and took in the scent of earth, the smell of air, of water, the smell of fire, of heat, and burning flesh. The goddess felt the warmth of the sun on her back and the wind brushing her hair to cover her face. She could hear again, what an underrated ability!

Phaedra could hear wind, rustling through papery, thin leaves. She hearkened to the sound of a babbling river and bird chirping in the forests far away from that thing behind her. That thing, what on Arda was that thing? Phaedra cocked her head to the side, she could hear it breathing, feel the thing’s eyes on her, and she sniffed the air. She smelt smoke, and felt heat coming of the thing.

The goddess opened her mouth to speak but no sounds came out, it was then when the pain came back to her, the thirst, and the hunger. She opened her mouth again but still no words came out, just a pathetic bout of coughing that ended in dry heaving. Phaedra needed water, she needed to drink. The ailing goddess kept her face close to the grass covered ground as to hide her sensitive eyes from the prying heat of the sun, she cautiously removed her hands from her eyes.

Phaedra listened for a moment, the sounds of water were assuredly coming from her right. The opposite direction from the thing. She started to crawl, keeping low to the ground, the soft grass tickled her belly. It was a long process, exhausting, the half-dead goddess had collapsed countless times, but did not stop, determined to keep moving.

As she crawled Phaedra could hear the thing following her, from all the sound it was making she had to assume that it was a large... thing. The feeble goddess did not ponder the thing following her for long as soon all she could hear was the rasping of her breath clawing its way out of her throat. One hand in front of the other, she could feel the sun disappearing beyond the horizon and the night grow cold, though her hair stuck to her forehead, clinging to her slick back.

Her hair was knotted and caked in dirt and irritated the tender skin on her back but Phaedra delighted in the sensation of it. The dirt seemed unending, the water so very far away until it wasn’t. The dirt dropped off abruptly and her shaking, dirt encrusted hand touched the blissfully crisp, cleansing, fresh water. Phaedra sighed in relief and used the bank of the river to drag herself a little closer. Holding on to the dirt and grass with a fragile, pale hand she leaned down to gulp down the revitalizing water greedily. She went limp her hair falling over the sickly goddess’s shoulder. Phaedra sighed, her thirst satisfied for the first time in eons.

She dared not drink any more of the water as clumps of dirt washed free of her tangled mane. The dirt the goddess had clung to so desperately crumble away and she fell into the river with a splash. The frigid water consumed her, sucking her under and sweeping her away. Phaedra tried to fight the rapids, truly she did, but she was just so tired and couldn’t hope to contest against the force of the river. She was slammed into a rock, forcing the air from her lungs. A large claw grasped the broken goddess around her bare torso and she was pulled from the heavy current. She gasped, fighting to bring oxygen into her lungs.

Phaedra felt a powerful wind whip her hair around her, goose-flesh raised on her arms and legs as she shivered from a mix between of the freezing water and the intense wind. _I’m flying._ Phaedra realized as her mind to drifted into an uneasy sleep.

She floated back into to consciousness slowly. Phaedra was surrounded by warmth, and the sound alike to the purring of a great cat. She opened her eyes carefully only to see nothing but absolute darkness. The broken goddess panicked for the briefest of moments, wondering if they events previous had be a hallucination. _What a terribly silly idea._ Phaedra thought to herself, but wiggled her fingers just to be sure. She could hear whatever was making that sound. She could feel the heat radiating from the thing’s body. Phaedra lay there for a long time letting her eyes become accustomed to barest of light. She first looked to the thing that seemed to be purring. It looked to be a giant lizard, it had a tail wrapped around her possessively, wings of a great bat, arms and legs, claws the size of her arm, and teeth that were to be as tall as she!

The goddess looked to her surroundings next. She could not see the ceiling at all, she looked below and saw a vast amount of gold, jewels, silver, and great many other valuable things that seemed to be piled up into a great mountain that the thing was sleeping on. She looked at herself last. Phaedra could not see much of herself as she was fairly comfortable and not inclined to move but what she could see horrified her.

Her bones jutted disgustingly like it would tear through her blotchy skin at any second. Dark bruises littered her skin making her ache in places the deformed goddess didn’t know could ache. Phaedra had been had been happy to be freed from her prison but could her body handle life again? She found trails of tears running down her sunken cheeks and loud sobs racked her body. The goddess averted her eyes from her once beautiful body. She huddled into the thing’s body, doubts and fear plagued her into a restless sleep.

Phaedra opened her eyes a second time to see a giant red eye peering down at her. Her eyes widened in fear and curled her legs into her chest.

“What are you?” The thing growled at her, his foul breath washing over the goddess who shrank back into the thing’s tail.

“I don’t remember.” She said her underused voice cracking and coming out gravely despite being whisper quiet. “Do you know what I am?” Phaedra looked fixedly at her feet not daring to look up at the thing.

The thing leered at her. “You are the Arkenstone. You are my greatest treasure.”

The subdued goddess frowned and shook her head a little. “I don’t think that’s right. I don’t remember as of yet, but I am sure that I am not any type of stone.” She glanced up at the thing for the briefest of seconds. “What are you?” She asked meekly.

The thing smiled gruesomely, pulling himself to his full height, unfurling his wings in a magnificent display of power. “I am fire, I am death, my wings are of the hurricane, I am King under the mountain, I am the last of the fire-drakes. I am Smaug!” The drake pulled his tail from behind Phaedra, the feeble goddess tumbled down the mountain of treasure. The Moon fell and Death followed her down.


	3. Like Snow Under the Stars

Phaedra awoke to the sound of footsteps, light and tentative, a quick heartbeat. Perhaps a mouse, nothing to worry about, either way she was simply too tired to investigate. The goddess relaxed into her dragon’s long neck, taking comfort in feel of the scalding heat the drake emanated. So close to where his flame was produced, the king’s scales would scorch the skin of mortal, but after living in empty darkness, feeling nothing for so long Phaedra saw this unsurpassable heat, this searing satiation as a gift.

She was within the grasp of sleep when a far more worrying sound roused her. It sounded like metal scraping along stone. The immortal’s pale eyes shot open, darting to where the sound seemed to originate from. Nothing was there, but she could still hear footsteps far too loud for a mouse. Smaug seemed to sense the intrusion in his slumber as the great dragon was roused from a heavy sleep that had been undisturbed for seven years. He caught the scent of the trespasser and came awake fully with a roar. Phaedra hardly had time to scramble gracelessly out of the enraged dragon’s path before he hastily departed from the mountain in pursuit of the man or beast who dared steal from his magnificent hoard.

The goddess was left alone in the immense hall, with nothing to do but wait for her protector to return. She focused her energy on listening for any sign of what might be happening outside or down the damnable hall that the thief had disappeared down. Phaedra listened and heard things speaking to each-other, talking of dead beasts, the burglar Mr. Baggins, she heard them talk of killing Smaug and taking back the mountain. The goddess felt a great rage bubble from within her. How dare those foolish creatures converse of taking back her mountain as if they had insured their victory already!

Smaug did not reappear for a long time, when he did return the fire-drake was still seething. Phaedra told him of the things she had heard

“I can hear them, oh magnificent dragon.” Phaedra whispered to the fire-drake. “I can hear them conspiring how to escape from us, how to take back the mountain. There is no need for unease, for I have a plan.”

The great dragon was rearranging his bed and pretended to take no notice of Phaedra, who continued unhindered by her protector’s apparent disinterest. “I will kill all of those abominable creatures for you and you alone, my king.” She raised a hand to touch the dragon but he moved out of her reach. The goddess frowned, saddened by the rejection.

She continued in a softer tone. “Please, allow me to take revenge on the loathsome, worthless creations, for you, for us. They stole from us, those things took our peace away. Let me make them suffer for their villainy.” Phaedra pleaded to the fire-drake, using his pride against him.

He nodded his large head in affirmation. “I have faith that with your manner our vengeance against the thieves will leave them begging for undelivered mercy.”

The luminous goddess smiled coyly. “Thank you, my king, you are a generous and equitable lord.”

When Mr. Baggins returned Phaedra was forced to hide by Smaug’s belly, under his bat-like wing. The dragon and the burglar bantered for a time fairly innocently until Mr. Baggins attempted to goad the dragon to show off his belly and Smaug would have if not for Phaedra hiding under his wing. Smaug eventually grew tired of the barrel-rider and sent him away with a burst of flame to hurry the coward’s retreat.

“They will come back, my sweet.” Phaedra whispered to her companion. “Dwarves are so greedy, they won’t be able to help themselves. All you have to do is go outside and frighten them inside the thieves then close the door behind them. Those foolish little creatures won’t be able to resist the call of their lost riches. The dwarves will enter our palace and I will pick them off one by one. They won’t see it coming. I will make them suffer for their misdeeds.”

The King under the Mountain departed. Smaug flew to where the end of tunnel should lead to and demolished the side of The Lonely Mountain. The fire-drake then flew to the once bountiful Laketown. The townspeople tried to prepare themselves but they had no hope against a fire-breathing dragon. Hundreds died including a bowman named Bard who foolishly wasted his arrows and was eaten alive.

Phaedra had a different sort of preparation to attend to. She found a dark piece of fabric to use as a cloak and found a number of daggers. The goddess torn pieces of fabric off of her makeshift cloak and used them to fasten the knives to her body. Then all there was left to do was wait.

The bait has arrived. Phaedra moved silent as the night to the little thief, trailing just behind him for a moment before he stopped observing his surroundings. She leaned close to the burglar so that her face was by his ear.

“Scream, little mouse.” The vengeful immortal hissed into his ear. Barrel-rider turned instantaneously in time to see Phaedra in her deadly glory before dropping his torch putting out the light and enveloping the great hall in darkness. Frustratingly the bait did not squeak like he was commanded.

The pale goddess reached a strong, slender hand out grasping the burglar’s wrist and breaking it with a sickening snap. The bait shrieked and the prey walked into the predator’s grasp.


	4. Like Rain Upon the Moon

After the first few dwarves trickled down into the cavern Phaedra disposed of the bait. She stalked her prey swiftly, reveling in the euphoric feel of domination, holding the life of her victims in the palm of her hands, an addicting type of control. She counted them off.

One was fat and slow, too easy and over far too quickly. Two and Three were easy to find but difficult to silence, a welcomed challenge. Four was armed only with a slingshot and an ugly haircut.

Five had a piece of metal protruding from his skull and babbled at her in dwarfish before she tore out his tongue and gutted him with a flick of her wrist. Six had an odd ears that were pointed out to the sides and several sizes too large for his head, given the size of the dwarf’s ears Phaedra assumed that his hearing was better developed and approached him with great care, the goddess strangled him before he could take in air to scream.

Seven had fixed cross-eyes that bothered the goddess, she cut them out along with his vocal cords. Eight had strange dark markings all over his body, he got a dagger shoved through his throat. Nine was decapitated at the hinge of his jaw, the blood from his wounds made his fiery hair even redder.

Ten is white haired and wise, his throat is cut from ear to ear. Eleven managed to cut Phaedra, he died with his own knife buried in his eye socket. Twelve watched Eleven die, he was struck dumb at the sight, his neck was broken with a satisfying crack.

The last invader didn’t even realize his brethren’s fate. He was completely absorbed in his search for something, most likely the Arkenstone, given his comments on it. Unfortunately for him the gem no longer existed, only the pale goddess remains.

She lept at the remaining dwarf holding a knife to his throat about to slice open his jugular when she realized who it was. Phaedra grinned, she would savor this last kill.

“Thorin Oakenshield.” She declared to the trembling dwarf. “I know you,” Phaedra peered down at the bloody thing. “And you know me.” She sneered. “I hear you’ve been looking for me. That I’m worth more to you than a 14th of all the gold and silver in this room.” She kicked the pathetic excuse for a king. “Do you understand? Do you know who I am?” She roared, a loud voice in a quiet chamber. The dwarf mumbled something incoherent.

The goddess crouched by the king of nothing, twirling the glimmering blade menacingly before driving it into his shoulder and twisting. Metal scratched along bone and the suffering dwarf screamed in agony, making Phaedra smirk, though it was closer to a grimace. “I fear I didn’t catch that last part, care to repeat it for me?” She tore the dagger from his damaged shoulder, she stood and pressed her heel into the gaping wound.

“THE ARKENSTONE!” He howled in distress.

“Good!” The goddess beamed down at him. “That is what I was called when your grandfather took me hostage. I am the Goddess Phaedra. I was imprisoned in the form of the Arkenstone for eons, until your people found me, I suppose I should thank you for that, however you didn’t exactly help me, did you?”

The goddess straddled the dwarf, tore the cloth from his torso like it was nothing but paper. She grinned down at the dwarf keeping their eyes locked as she drew the last clean blade she had on her person. It was a beautiful serrated blade, incredibly well preserved and extremely sharp. Thorin’s eyes widened in horror as she put a hand on his injured shoulder and pressed down evoking a groan from the fraudulent king. “And now no-one will help you.”

Phaedra placed the tip of the knife at the beginning of his sternum, the edge facing away from her, and began to cut. She was exceedingly careful, but worked quickly, the goddess wanted the dwarfish shit to suffer as much as she had. The dwarf wailed, and shrieked, and blubbered false apologies and promises. The goddess committed the sound to memory, after all she would only get to torture this mockery of a king once. He begged and she kept cutting.

Phaedra was just about to Thorin’s collarbone when he passed out from blood-loss and pain. She kept going, not nearly done with the body. The exhilarated goddess finally finished separating the two halves of the dwarf’s ribcage, she wedged her fingers into the cut she had made, blood and other fluids gushed out of the wound and coated her arms in burgundy liquid. Phaedra inhaled deeply and on the exhale pulled, spreading Thorin’s rib-cage to look down at his faintly beating heart.

Entranced she wrapped both hands around the throbbing muscle and rived it, separating the organ from the surrounding tissues. Phaedra held the warm, bloody muscle up to her face, breathing in the scent of raw meat. She opened her mouth and tore into the resilient flesh, feeling the rush of warm blood fill her waiting mouth, tasting tangy and metallic, she swallowed and reveled in the revitalization of energy it gave her.

With renewed vigor Phaedra tore a chunk of meat away from the heart, she ate it all, tearing the tough muscle, and sipping the remnants of blood as if it were the finest wine. When the meat was gone she sat back on her heels reborn, awake, and powerful. Phaedra looked at what remained of Thorin Oakenshield and laughed, savoring this last piece of retribution, watching what was left of the mutilated dwarf’s blood coating the gold, silver, and jewels that the false king had died for like paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's all I had. I have some drafts for the next few chapters, but I probably won't post unless there's at least some interest.


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